The Vigor of Spring
by Friendly Voices
Summary: Sequel to Falling Like the Colored Leaves: Captain Tauriel appreciated the Elvenking's presence only after he had withdrawn from her life. She wanted to listen to his wisdom only after he had nothing more to say, and she needed his strength only after he had none of it left.
1. Part one

****Disclaimer: ****Not mine, obviously.

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><p><strong>The Vigor of Spring, part one <strong>

Tauriel found herself overloaded with work. With Legolas in the North, the she-elf was the second in command of Mirkwood forces, and it was not a pleasant duty. As the winter progressed and stray beasts – mainly orcs and spiders – became more daring, the guards had tried hard to keep the forest near the Elvenking's halls safe. It was taxing and bloody, but she hadn't lost a single man yet.

Tauriel supposed she should be grateful for all her additional duties which the King had forced upon her as a form of punishment; she hadn't had much time to think about unpleasant things and her light hadn't started to fade yet.

She had been so scared of the possibility. During the first few hours after the battle she had thought that she would surely fade, because the pain had been just too much to handle… but day after day she had forced herself to function as if nothing had changed. The Elvenking was merciless as always with his demands, and the rare glimpse of his kindness at Ravenhill had quickly vanished.

She had had to oversee the transport of the wounded and dead from Dale. She had had to prepare the Guard for winter – meaning bicker endlessly with the blacksmiths and armorers. She had had to plan patrols and think of the palace defenses. Someone – Tauriel, of course – had needed to select the new recruits and oversee their training. The supply routes needed to be cleared again and again… it was a never ending whirlwind of work, work and more work.

It was no wonder that Tauriel had noticed it just now, when the harsh winter was almost behind them and she could take a few very much-needed breaths. And what exactly had she just noticed? The King had practically left her to command the Guard as she pleased. She hadn't spoken to him in a month – come to think of it, she hadn't even seen the Elvenking for a fortnight. Before that, he had spoken to her only curtly and never longer than a few moments.

He had purposefully shunned her. The realization stung.

Tauriel was well aware that she had no right to feel rejected – but Eru help her, she did. She had been shocked by his supporting presence at Ravenhill. She felt humbled by the King's unexpected compassion and continuing helpfulness to people of Dale. She was also very grateful for his permission for her to stay in the Woodland Realm – it was more than she deserved. However, she strongly disliked the change in the dynamics inside of the palace.

Not that she had enjoyed the regular meetings with the monarch, but she had always felt more at peace knowing that the Elvenking with all of his years of experience had had the final word. They had disagreed on some matters, that was very much true, but his wisdom was reassuring.

The captain went to search for her King before she could change her mind. She needed that reassurance and the Elvenking's wisdom.

After all, wasn't he right in the end? She swallowed and nodded to herself. Of course that he had been right, in a sense. Her love for Kíli didn't matter now, didn't affected her duties, her life – for he was dead and buried under the Lonely Mountain and she lived here… and yet, the King had been wrong, because her love for Kíli was the only thing that had mattered then – for it had been real. Tauriel had followed her heart and she hadn't regretted that decision.

She only regretted how it had ended.

And of course, the consequences put her in a position which that was not ideal. Tauriel lacked experience; she was one of the younger elves in the Elvenking's halls, not young enough for other commanders to openly challenge her decisions, but young enough to feel the need for guidance now and then.

There had always been Legolas to hear about her worries, but she refused to think about the Prince. And then there had always been the King to step in and take the responsibility for their realm's safety when others had faltered.

What if Tauriel faltered now? Was this another kind of punishment? The she-elf felt keenly her own shortcomings, and she was deeply ashamed of what she had said to their King. She had spoken out of anger, out of spite. However, she was more ashamed of what she had assumed about him for hundreds of years.

Her search came to an end. It was rather curious, but she had always had a good idea about the King's whereabouts, had always known when he had been near or where to find him when she had needed to report to him immediately.

Tauriel found the Elvenking in a place she had not expected; the herb garden. It was Legolas's favorite spot – one of the few parts open to the outside world. The garden was hidden in the upper levels of the palace, close to the healing rooms.

The King was sitting on a mossy rock in the middle of it, surrounded with only silver moonlight. It was a cold night, his breath was leaving his body in small puffs of vapor, but he was dressed very lightly in a white tunic and plain trousers. He didn't have his crown, his jewels – not even his sword.

Tauriel saw only the left side of his face and she shuddered. The Elvenking was a very handsome elf, but she knew well what his magic concealed. His left eye was blind and this half of his face was terribly scarred.

She stood there hidden in the shadows and watched him for several long moments, marveling at the picture before her. He seemed so at peace, yet there was something deeply disconcerting in his posture.

"I know you are there." The King's voice was calm, his mouth barely moving, and he didn't even look at her. "Come, sit with me."

Startled, Tauriel obeyed and moved closer. Her presence disturbed the tranquility of the garden and the King sighed and glanced at her, a small smile playing across his lips. "What keeps you awake it this time of night?"

"I'm worried, my lord." She followed his example and sat down on the ground, her fingers moving over the frozen moss. It was a surprisingly cold night, indeed.

"Unnecessarily, I believe." The King closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "The winter is behind us, and those attacks that worry you so will soon cease."

He was unusually relaxed, she noticed. He had always been so unapproachable, tense, coiled like a snake ready to attack. He had been so intense; she always felt his eyes on her at every opportunity – assessing her, judging her.

Legolas had said once or twice that the King had been fond of Tauriel, but she had never believed him. Tauriel had felt that she had done something to displease the Elvenking, something that had frustrated him very much, but even to this day she just didn't know what. What had earned her so much of his contempt?

When she had been younger, it had been easier to avoid looking him in the eye, and later it had become a habit, so Tauriel was surprised by her own action now. She raised her hand and touched the King's shoulder, reminiscent of the moment after the battle when he had touched her cheek.

Astonished, his eyes snapped open and he gazed at her. Tauriel's hand fell down and she swallowed, awkward and suddenly alarmed. His eyes were so sad, so sorrowful, his light dimmed. With a dreadful certainty, she knew that he was suffering terribly.

"I worry about you, my lord." The King blinked, uncertain if he had heard her correctly, and then he mournfully shook his head.

"Do not, Tauriel. It is not your place to worry about my wellbeing."

"You are clearly unwell, and with due respect, no one can forbid me to worry about my king."

"I see." He nodded. It seemed that he would speak no more and Tauriel entertained herself with gazing at the skies. He had been right, of course, the attacks would cease, they did every year, but she felt uneasy. The change within their king was so sudden, so unnatural – she was afraid to name the source. She had her suspicions, though, and the longer she sat in his presence, the more certain she was.

"I am considering taking the ship west." He confirmed after a very long silence, when the moon had moved away and they were left only with the dim light of stars.

"We are not ready to be left kingless." Tauriel whispered. His words had caused something strange; there was a ringing in her ears, and her heart dropped. Even though the night was cold, it was only in this very moment that she felt the coldness affecting her. The curious thing was, though, that the feeling started inside of her, moving from her very core outward to the tips of her fingers.

"Alas, this decision lies with me." He answered wearily. "I shall choose the time and manner of my departure from Middle-earth, and no one else."

The elleth bowed, chastised and more than frightened by the tiredness in his voice. The Elvenking was fading. She didn't know why or when the process had started, but she was sure that he needed to sail soon, otherwise he would die.

Her previous worries seemed pointless now, and she was ashamed once more for her own selfishness. She had been too wrapped in her work and her own grief to notice that there was something terribly wrong with the Elvenking. She had failed as Legolas' friend and as the Captain of the Guard – she hadn't protected Legolas' father in his stead, and she hadn't protected her King.

Tauriel blinked, and two salty drops fell on the moss. Was she destined to bring only destruction and pain to those around her?

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><p>Beta readed by <strong>ShadowLink5. <strong>Thank you ;)


	2. Part two

******Disclaimer: ******Not mine, obviously.

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><p><strong>The Vigor of Spring, Part Two<strong>

The snow in the lowlands melted but the mountain roads were not passable yet, or so Tauriel believed. The Elvenking appeared to be calm and collected any time she had seen him since their encounter in the herb garden, but the elleth knew that he had grown restless, his eyes often turning westwards.

Closing her own, she breathed in. This night was much warmer than the one several weeks ago. Tauriel rested on the ground; the moss beneath her fingers was green and fresh, and the waning moon provided only a little bit of light. She was unbelievably tired and there was a worrying void inside of her. The spring blooming all around the Elvenking's halls hadn't filled her with the usual joy and there was not much that could lessen the acute feeling of loss.

_Why is it so?_ Tauriel wondered, but she had her answer deep down; she was only afraid to name it. She breathed out, a sense of a certain presence filling her, and she knew she wasn't alone.

It had stopped bothering her long time ago, this awareness of the King's presence. As if knowing that he had been discovered, the Elvenking spoke softly. "I see my favorite place has been stolen."

"My lord." Tauriel shifted and sat cross-legged. He was standing in the shadows of the entrance, so she could not see his face clearly – only two sparks glistered in the darkness for a moment, then they vanished and the King moved into the garden. He was dressed plainly again, and barefooted. Nothing resembled the mighty and prideful ruler of Mirkwood she had known for hundreds of years.

"Peace, Tauriel. There is enough space for two." Gracefully, he seated himself on the rock and gazed down at her with a serene face and troubled eyes. "You should be worried less, Captain; yet I see you are not. Is the woodland in danger?"

"It is – in danger of losing its king." She answered evenly, closely watching him. He had always reminded her of stone; she had believed that the Elvenking was unbreakable. How wrong she had been! He was like a delicately cut crystal glass – so hard that only a diamond could cut it, and as much beautiful, but hardly unbreakable…

"I have made my choice."

He had been shattered to pieces. Tauriel wondered what had caused it, and who had touched the untouchable Elvenking so much that their absence had forced him to depart Middle-earth.

"Is it painful?" She asked him quietly, marveling at her own audacity – but she didn't care about her place or propriety. She needed to know, to understand the process, for comparison. Suddenly it was obvious whose absence would be forcing her to leave this life.

The King looked taken aback by her question and was silent for a long time. "No, it is not. The process is tiring, but not painful. I cannot remember a time when I was being more at peace, thought. I have had time to come to terms with all the decisions in my life. It is liberating."

"How… how did you know?" Tauriel swallowed and refused to look at him. "How could I recognize…"

"Tauriel!" The King cried out loudly and caught her hand, kneeling in front of her. He squeezed tightly and when the elleth raised her eyes to meet his, she saw excruciating pain in them. "What are you saying?"

The captain blinked several times. She tried to free her hand and escape his burning gaze. The King held her firmly though, desperately searching her face, her eyes. He had to find what he had been looking for, because he shook his head sadly and his other hand moved to cup Tauriel's cheek. He looked deeply moved, on the verge of tears himself.

"You are fading." The statement was filled with a surprising amount of anguish – and she had believed him to be unable to feel anything while there was such a passion hidden in the Elvenking.

"So you are… Please, it cannot be stopped? Isn't there a way, my lord?" Tauriel didn't start crying – she had cried only twice in the presence of her king; at Ravenhill, and during their very first meeting.

The King shook his head again and sat on his heels, urging her to move closer to him. Tauriel was surprised that he was still holding her hand – the King was rather known for his dislike of personal contact. She did so hesitatingly, stopping only a breath away from touching him. For a moment she believed that he was contemplating pulling her to his lap – how silly of her – but then he patted her hand once and grimly smiled.

"No. Once there is nothing in this life for one of our kind, once there is no hope and no anchor strong enough, we will fade." When he reached the end of the sentence, he squeezed her hand so tightly it hurt. "I am so sorry, Captain. I hoped you would not face this fate, I hoped that your duties would keep you anchored to Middle-earth. I should have known better; you have proved how deep your attachment to the young dwarf is."

Tauriel couldn't look at the King – his assumption was only half correct. She had loved Kíli, and if it weren't for her duties to the Woodland Realm, she would have probably started to fade right after the battle, yet…

"We will set out for the Grey Havens once the mountain passes are cleared." The King announced, disturbing her thoughts. This time, Tauriel looked up to his face. He was solemn, but there was this strange flicker of relief in his eyes – as if he was secretly glad that he would not be leaving alone. He must feel lonely to welcome the idea of her company. Eru knew that she did.

It took her a moment to summon the courage to speak, and she pried her hand free. She had never considered sailing West; not before and not now. She was bound to this land, and it was the only bond that seemed to remain strong and true nowadays.

"I… I will not sail West, my lord." Tauriel watched the flicker vanish and the Elvenking's face turned to stone. She was reminded of the moment in Dale, right before he had split her bow, and before he had threatened to kill her. Fortunately, the King was unarmed.

"Indeed." He murmured, his eyes roaming over her face, piercing and intense, wild look in them. She was unable to turn away, captured by something she couldn't name.

"I am part of this forest, my lord…"

"Yes."

"I was born here…"

"You were."

"I can't see myself leaving for Valinor."

"So you will fade." The King abruptly rose to his feet and nodded to her. "And indeed, this choice is yours to make, Tauriel. I wish… you a good night."

She watched him depart the garden, his movements swift and agitated. It seemed that Tauriel would forever disappoint her King, but it didn't matter anymore. He would leave and she would not follow – it was not her place. Tauriel was, after all, only a lowly Silvan Elf, and most of her people eventually would fade from this world, not sail to the Undying Lands.

When she knew that the Elvenking was truly gone, she rested on the moss again and watched the stars. Their light was so beautiful, she loved it, and nights like these made her think of Kíli more than usual.

Their very first honest conversation was about the starlight, promises and memories… She had nothing left of him, except those few pure and precious memories. She promised herself, under the light of the cold and distant stars, that she wouldn't forget her dwarf as long as there would be life in her body.

It was a feeble promise, though, because even now when she was so at peace – just like the King had said – she felt her strength waning. This spring would be her last, and in the summer, Tauriel would be gone, too. Just like Kíli, just like the Elvenking.

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	3. Part three

******Disclaimer: ******Not mine, obviously.

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><p><strong>The Vigor of Spring, Part Three<strong>

Tauriel stilled her movements with her eyes trained at the bushes below and her bow at ready. When the word about a large pack of orcs moving northeast had come, it had been obvious they had planned to ambush the caravans from Dale. However, Tauriel had no intentions of letting them take anything that belonged to the Woodland Realm.

The atmosphere in the Elvenking's halls was solemn. While they would not be left entirely leaderless, the imminent departure of their King and Tauriel's fading were putting the Wood-elves on edge, especially when Prince Legolas was out of reach somewhere in the wilderness of North. It was dangerous to cross their lands uninvited and unexpected nowadays, for the elves shot first and asked questions later.

Her party of archers had set out early in the morning to meet them, and now they were watching the road, their ears twitching and their expressions grim. A pack of orcs was one of the loudest things in the forest; only their smell was worse than the noise they made. "Steady." Her whisper was carried by the warm breeze. It was still spring, so full of life and light that her heart soared, and she felt almost regretful to never be able to see any spring again.

"Steady." Her voice lowered.

"Fire!" She ordered, shooting arrow after arrow, until the quiver was empty. It was a short fight; the orcs had been killed quickly, and only a pair of survivors turned to run. Tauriel jumped down to inspect the nearest corpses and gather her , most of them were not in reusable condition.

"Clean up, I'll follow them." Tauriel briskly ordered her deputy and sprang back into the branches. "Do you have any arrows left?"

"Are you sure, Captain?" The deputy hesitated, his face concerned. It was no secret that the fading of the Captain of the Guard was progressing alarmingly fast, and some commanders were even convinced that she should not partake in patrolling any longer for her own safety. Fortunately none had tried to insinuate that she was incapable of leading the Guard in the time she had left.

"There are only two of them. Go, I'll be right behind you."

"Understood." Nodding, he threw her his quiver and grinned. "Be careful."

"I always am." She smiled and set off.

Tracking two orcs was not a difficult task, though Tauriel took her time. She observed how they carefully covered their tracks and was rather impressed; it was a good job and even elvish trackers could easily overlook their trail. She observed them for another few moments, silently following them through the woods.

The waning of her strength had resulted in a loss of certain quickness of reflexes and swiftness of movement. Not that Tauriel was too much impaired; she simply approached the two pests with caution.

She took aim at the one running in the front. A moment later the arrow pierced his broad back, and he fell down. Tauriel aimed again at the second orc. He stopped and turned, growling.

She fired.

He threw his axe in her direction.

The she-elf quickly jumped from her place and gracefully landed on a branch of an adjacent tree, satisfied with her killing shot. Her smile faltered, though; there was a cracking sound and the branch underneath her broke. Tauriel wasn't quick enough to leap away. She reached for another branch, but the tree had had to be withered from inside. It cracked.

Her body crashed down, falling through the dead roots, and disappeared under the tree trunk.

When Tauriel regained consciousness, she was unable to tell how long she had been lying there, but she caught a few glimpses of night skies; it had to be several hours. She tried to move, but her leg was broken and her left shoulder dislocated. When she touched the back of her head, she found dried blood, and her body hurt from tons of small cuts, scratches and bruises.

Closing her eyes, she sighed. They were searching for her by now, but considering the care the two orcs had taken, she doubted that her men would find her anytime soon. She would have to wait until morning.

Her eyes then snapped open and her ears twitched. Above her, she heard a rustling sound, and a shadow moved over the roots. A clicking of giant spider's fangs followed.

Tauriel was not sure she would last until morning.

She carefully pulled her dagger out, gazed towards the opening and waited, desperately wishing for someone to come. She had been helpless a handful of times, but only once in her life had she been this powerless, hurt and alone, facing a certain and unpleasant death.

_Help, please!_ She pleaded desperately even though she was not used to pleading and forlorn wishes were useless; Kíli hadn't been spared, her family hadn't been saved.

Her father had been one of the blacksmiths in the King's services supplying the Guard with weapons, although Tauriel had never seen the Elvenking or the Prince personally. They had lived in a village where elves from the Elvenking's halls hardly ever appeared. The she-elf had just celebrated one hundred and twenty three years in Middle-earth when their settlement had been attacked one cold winter morning.

Tauriel had been around weapons since she had been able to walk, so she had been capable of holding her own against the orcs long enough to see the houses burning and her family die, long enough to see the arrival of the king's guard.

Leading the fighters had been the Elvenking himself, with the Prince at his side, and Tauriel well remembered the very first time she had seen him. He had resembled a raging blizzard, eyes blazing and swords gleaming, and she had been slightly afraid of his imposing figure, impressed by the lethal grace and perfectly honed skills with which he had been slaying orcs.

A movement above caught her attention.

The spider quickly lowered itself down and Tauriel stabbed it. It fell on her injured arm and the elleth gasped in pain, watching the gap overhead.

Where there was one spider, there were always two. Where there were two, more were soon to come. After a few moments she closed her eyes tiredly, the vision of the Elvenking's wrath still in forefront of her mind. He had saved her life back then, but she knew nothing except of a miracle would save her life now. No one could find her in the darkness, no one but beasts of prey.

Remembering the day six hundred years ago was not painful, not anymore. She understood it all in the end, and it was liberating. Tauriel was at peace now, lying there in her soon-to-be grave. She felt strong and free enough to admit to herself a very simple truth.

Her choice could never have been Legolas; the Prince had never had a chance. It had been the Elvenking who had caught her attention that day, however unwise and utterly foolish it had been, and it had been the Elvenking who had kept Tauriel loyal and humble and alive, who had elevated the blacksmith's daughter to be the Captain of the Guard, who had inspired her and made her strive to do her best. It had been the Elvenking who had her caught up in his spell and who had dulled and tamed her fire.

Her choice had had to be Kíli – the warm and passionate and reckless young dwarf whose fire had matched her own. It had had to be him to love her, to show her that love was not cold and unreachable, and hearts were not made of stone.

The second spider came. She stabbed it again but this time, the blade had gotten stuck and the corpse fell on top of her. Tauriel cried out; it aggravated her wounds, and then she forced herself to stay silent.

She briefly considered trying to reach for her second dagger, but her movement was very restricted. It was pointless anyway. Tauriel tried to breathe deeply and meditate to stop thinking. Her mind was providing her with visions of her own foolishness, and it only served in helping her remember that there was nothing keeping her anchored to this life any longer. No Kíli and no Elvenking.

_I am sorry, so sorry._ To whom the apology belonged, she didn't know. No one would hear and nobody would ever know. However, this release from bonds of convention she welcomed and embraced wholeheartedly.

Time slowly passed and the pain was muddling her mind; it had to. There was a sparkle of something at the edge of her consciousness, an awareness of a very familiar presence approaching. After few more moments she could swear that she felt…

"Tauriel! Tauriel!"

Suddenly the roots were pushed aside and the King's face appeared in their place. His eyes were blazing and the light in them made Tauriel doubt her own sanity. The fading monarch didn't have much light left in him, and how could he be here? No one knew where to look for her.

"By Eru, Tauriel!" He roared and leaped down. In the blink of an eye the spiders were pushed aside and the Elvenking crouched next to her. He was furious, that was obvious, and he was far from fading. He appeared to be full of vigor and strength.

"You are hurt." His face softened and he looked pained himself. His hands were shaking and he fisted them, gazing down at her intensely. "I thought I would lose the little sanity I had left when you were reported missing."

"I… my lord?" Tauriel blinked at him uncertainly. The expression in the King's face was so very distracting. It resembled Kíli's face when he had been looking at her. It was so open, so full of… admiration? He returned her look and smiled, something soft and vulnerable leaking into his eyes. It was like watching clouds drift away or ice melting.

"I have rethought my decision about sailing." He said hoarsely and gently, so very gently, his hands started to examine her injuries.

"I am glad to hear that." Tauriel answered and let her eyes drop. She felt warm and the pain disappeared in the back of her mind. Would she dare to be hopeful? Was she not to fade, after all? Her life had been linked to the Elvenking's in the moment she had first seen him … Would he stay and live? She didn't know what could possibly change his mind, what could possibly keep him in Middle-earth.

His hands now strayed; he reached for her uninjured arm and intertwined their fingers, his other hand caressing Tauriel's face. "Would you not ask… why is it so?"

"Why is it so?" Tauriel asked and opened her eyes warily. She was inclined to believe this whole situation was nothing more than a pain-induced delusion. The Elvenking could not truly be here with her. He could not behave this way, not towards her. While Tauriel conceded that her assumptions about him had been mostly incorrect, she doubted that the King could have any tender feelings for her.

"I had known you were in danger and then, suddenly, I had felt your presence filling me, here." He raised her hand and put it on his chest where his heart was beating strongly and evenly, and kept it there covered with his own. He wore no armor and Tauriel could feel the steady rhythm underneath her palm. Her own heartbeat slowly aligned to the Elvenking's and she watched their joined hands in wonder.

It felt real.

"And then, I had heard you, here." He moved her hand and placed it on his brow. A silence fell between them. He had felt her, just like she had always felt his nearness, and it was a pleasing thought. Moreover, he had heard her in his mind; it could mean only one thing. Tauriel's eyes widened at the implication and she drew her hand back, gazing up into his face.

His smile was almost painful when he nodded, as if he had fought a long battle and lost at last, torn between sadness and elation. He cupped Tauriel's face and the remains of any doubts disappeared; all the sorrows and all the sufferings were erased.

"How could I possibly leave Middle-earth now, meleth nín?" The Elvenking choked out and rested his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.

_How could I ever leave you behind now, when you are mine and I am yours?_ The words echoed inside of her very soul. Tauriel hesitatingly reached out with her good hand and slowly stroked his hair. The King shuddered and gently pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth.

Then another spider appeared in the gap above them. The Elvenking turned in a flash and killed it swiftly with a furious growl, very annoyed at the disturbance of their very special and very private moment.

Tauriel watched its body for a moment. The spider served as proof that she hadn't dreamt and that it was real, so very real. Tauriel's mouth twitched when she saw the King's indignation. He turned and raised his eyebrows at her. In that moment the elleth started to laugh and after a few heartbeats, he joined her. First, he snorted, and then a deep laughter erupted from his throat and he knelt next to her.

"I believe it would be best to get out of this pitiful hole. The search party should be appearing soon, they were not falling too far behind me." The Elvenking said smiling and fervently kissed her palm. "May I?"

Tauriel nodded and was quickly gathered into the Elvenking's arms. When she looked up into his twinkling eyes, she was filled with such a wonder and joy that she started to cry for the third time in her life while in the presence of her King.

In the solemn contours of his handsome face Tauriel had glimpsed a promise of eternity.

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